This one is rather bleak, but bleak is better than false joy. So, merry merry. I’ll post it, because if I sent it out, with appropriate painting, I think I would be inundated with calls from suicide hotlines. I’m not depressed. It’s a hard time and when things are hard, I believe we pull back to think of the one candle.
Swirling dark claustrophobic close. Pressing
Those sunny and fiery heights toward which I reached
And valleys painted deep with purple and blue as the summer day slid to sleep
No longer seen.
Were they ever?
Etched in my heart, I feel them,
but the heart is a notorious liar
Can you see
Candle flickers against the storm
Another whisked out
But two more spit flame
Heartbroken, damaged flame
But flame that holds back
The smallest dark.
And if we are close enough
I can see your eyes in the shadow…dark, moist, with care
And I can reach
And gently draw my finger down your cheek
That I may hope once more.
With hope that I may one day hope once more.